


Buffalo Man - GEN Version

by Tarlan



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-01
Updated: 2004-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-19 23:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sadistic serial killer is on the loose and the Seven have the job of bringing him in. (Gen Version)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buffalo Man - GEN Version

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Buffalo Man](https://archiveofourown.org/works/206595) by [Tarlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan). 
  * Inspired by [Coyote Man](https://archiveofourown.org/works/130089) by [Tarlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan). 



> Many, many thanks to Mirna for doing such a superb job of beta'ing this story. My thanks also go to Donna for all her input and initial beta on the genfic. Thank you to both of you.

Chris Larabee stretched to ease the tension out of his back. The Seven had spent most of the day in the saddle with little sign of their quarry and he was starting to feel mighty tired. The trail they were following was barely visible and it seemed as if they were losing, rather than catching up, with their quarry.

His horse snorted, drew its head down, and then snapped it back up as it tried to flick away the flies that hovered around its nose and eyes, tugging Chris forwards.

"Easy, there."

He pulled gently on the reins as the horse shied slightly, skittering sideways, its hooves making clicking noises against the rocky terrain.

About ten feet in front of him Vin Tanner knelt on the ground, his fingers sifting through the remains of a camp fire. He rubbed the black and gray ash between his fingers and lifted them to his nose before picking up another handful and letting the fine dust trickle through his fingers, his thoughts centered inwards as some of the dust was picked up in the slight breeze to form tiny little eddies. Wiping his hands on the side of his jacket, Vin looked back up at the dark-clad figure of their unacknowledged leader.

"He's got maybe half a day on us."

"It'll be dark in half an hour. We'll make camp here for tonight. Start again at first light."

Chris didn't wait for agreement before dismounting, knowing the others would see the sense in his decision.

The camp was set up with the efficiency of a people well acquainted with this lifestyle, and a little while later they were huddled around the fire with hot coffee on the boil, and several rabbits turning on a makeshift spit.

"I, for one, will be most gratified when we can return to the relative comfort of Four Corners."

"Ground too hard for them refined southern bones, Ezra?"

"The ground is no place for any man... gentleman or ruffian, Mr Jackson."

"Don't know if I can agree with you there, Ezra. Spent many a night on the ground with some willing lady."

"That was no lady, Mr Wilmington."

"Amen to that."

Buck grinned, the melting expression on Josiah's face showed the man was siding with Ezra in a far from pious manner.

Chris hid his own grin behind one hand, loving the repartee as Ezra pitted his wits against the rest of them, his eyes rising to meet Vin's across the fire and finding them sparkling as both men luxuriated in the warm camaraderie that filled the camp. It was moments like this that reminded him of how much he had gained since agreeing to Judge Travis's offer.

"Are those implements of yours sharp enough to carve our glorious repast, Mr Jackson."

Nathan laughed at the very idea that he would allow any dullness in the blades of his knives.

"Sharp enough, Ezra." With a movement faster than expected a knife thudded into the ground by Ezra's hand. "But I'll let you do the honors."

Ezra crinkled his nose up at the idea of dealing with the hot, greasy rabbits but then grinned back, gold tooth reflecting the fire light as he heard the deep chuckle. He caught the beaming white smile and shook his head.

"It will be my honor, Mr Jackson."

***

No-one questioned Vin Tanner's decision to take first watch; it was almost a given that the tracker would make the offer, needing to be one with the peace that came from being so far from so-called civilization. Despite the reason for their trek, this was the life he loved - the life he was born to. He stretched, his lithe frame hidden beneath several layers of bulky clothing, enjoying the sensation of having a full stomach, good companionship and the sounds of nature surrounding him. With practiced ease he filtered out the sound of the other men making themselves comfortable for the night.

The temptation to pull out his harmonica and play a few notes was almost overpowering but he resisted, pulled his thick coat tighter against him to ward off the cold of the night and became one with the rock he was sitting upon until it was impossible to tell where the rock ended and the man began.

The night watch passed slowly but, eventually, he was relieved by Buck. He gave the man a tired slap on the shoulder as they exchanged places, then quickly settled down to sleep, knowing that tomorrow might prove an equally challenging day.

****

A hand on his shoulder brought Chris fully awake in seconds. He sighed deeply and nodded to Buck, but kept the blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he took over the watch from his long-time friend. He sighed again as images from the wonderful dream he'd been so cruelly snatched away from crowded into his head; visions of Sarah and Adam laughing happily as they waved goodbye.

_Do you know how much I miss you, Sarah?_

Dreams of Sarah and Adam on that last day had haunted him ever since he returned to find their home a smoldering ruin; their burnt remains almost unrecognizable. Since arriving in Four Corners, he had tried to force those dreams away by focusing on the beautiful widow, Mary Travis, but his guilt at leading her on when he knew he did not love her grew ever stronger until, finally, he found he could not live with it - and had stopped. At first she had seemed confused by his sudden lack of interest, but eventually she got the message and found someone new... and he had been happy for her. It was a shame that her romance with Gerard had been short-lived. He would have made her a fine husband - and he would have made a good father to her son, Billy.

Soon after he had found Ella and entertained, for the briefest of times, the thought of leaving Four Corners, and all the emotional baggage that seemed attached to that place, well behind him. That was several months ago and now Ella, Mary and even Sarah seemed like distant memories, no longer gripping him so tightly. The truth of it was, Ella Gaines had set him free. Discovering her part in Sarah and Adam's murder had allowed him to, finally, put their ghosts to rest. He thought he would feel empty without the self-loathing, the guilt and the thirst for revenge that had driven him these last few years but instead, thoughts of making a new life for himself had filled the void.

A log on the fire crackled suddenly, spitting flames a little higher for a moment before all returned to normal once more. Having been thrown from his introspection, Chris was loath to return and, as he sat, still and silent, with the rifle balanced across his knees, his mind drifted back instead to the events that had led them to this place.

***

It had all started when a body was found in a shallow cave just a few miles north of the town by a couple of lovebirds hoping to catch a few hours away from prying eyes. Not even the ride back to town had helped them put their senses back together; the girl had been hysterical and the boy a stammering wreck. Chris and Vin had ridden out together leaving the useless young man behind, certain they had enough details to pinpoint the cave in question.

What they found in the cave was enough to turn both men's stomachs and, momentarily, Chris had felt guilty for the way he had treated the frightened boy. Looking at the decomposing remains of the body on the floor, it was hard to tell if the victim had been a small man or a large woman, only a blue ribbon found trodden into the blood-soaked ground had offered any clue.

Once they had recovered their composure, they had made an inspection of the days-old corpse. Whoever it was had been skinned alive, pieces of their flesh lying in maggot-infested clumps about the darkened interior. Of the hair there was no trace, and they could only assume that whoever did this had scalped their victim and carried off her hair as a trophy. There was no doubt that this woman had died in a great deal of pain over many hours, and the only conclusion to be drawn was that there was either a madman or a renegade Indian in hiding close by.

***

Within days of returning to Four Corners, Vin's theory that this was no Indian despite the nature of the death, was proven. Another body was found bearing the same signs of a slow, torturous demise but at the scene of the murder he had spotted a small handful of greasy blond hair that could not have come from what had once been a dark-skinned man. Again they could only make assumptions; that this victim had fought hard for his life and ripped out a fistful of his attacker's hair.

As they sat around the saloon deciding on a plan of action, Vin Tanner told them the tales he had heard about the Buffalo Men when he was living with the Comanches; crazy white sons of bitches who had escaped into the mountains, either running from the law or deserters from the army, living in such terrible isolation that they slowly went insane. He had thought these were just stories told by the village elders to frighten young children, but now... now he wondered if they had some basis in fact.

Chris could remember his initial disbelief fading as further evidence grew to support Vin's theory. And so the hunt was on.

***

Another two hours passed of his watch before the first tell-tale signs of the encroaching dawn brought his eyes scanning the area beyond. One of the horses whinnied uneasily, bringing the gunslinger's attention back to the small camp. His fingers curled around the rifle in readiness as he strained to see into the darkness beyond the campsite, wondering what had spooked the horses. He chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully. It was probably a coyote searching for food but Chris was not prepared to take any chances, his mind going onto full alert. Small stones shifting from the ground below his position brought him spinning round, rifle raised into the firing position.

"Chris, it's Josiah."

Chris lowered the rifle as the older man sank to his haunches beside him.

"We've got trouble. Vin believes he's doubled back and is out there watching us."

Chris didn't bother to question Vin's intuition, just felt annoyed with himself for being so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't even noticed the tracker had left the comparative safety of the camp.

"Wake the others."

There was no longer a need to remain on look-out now the sun had finally started to cast its gray, pre-dawn light over the land, lifting the darkness, but Chris waited a moment before following Josiah back into the camp. He wanted to let go of some of his frustration and anger before he joined the other men as they busily rolled up blankets and set a fresh pot of coffee on the fire. Eventually he gained his feet, never noticing the large shadow that detached itself from the boulder to his left.

"Don't you move... or say a word."

Chris froze, startled momentarily by the unfamiliar voice that whispered so close to his ear that he could feel the warm breath on his neck. He allowed the rifle to be taken from his hands, offering no resistance as he felt the bite of cool steel against his throat.

"Place your hands behind your back."

The feel of rope slipping over his wrists galvanized him into action. Taking advantage of the other man's preoccupation with trying to tie him up, Chris slammed his body backwards against his captor and made a grab for the rifle. His assailant twisted out of reach and jabbed the butt viciously into Chris's stomach, knocking the breath out of him in a loud grunt, dropping him to the ground. The Buffalo Man made to slam the rifle butt into his victim's vulnerable side but the sound of running feet stopped the attack. He leaned down and grabbed the front of the winded man's shirt, pulling the lighter man up with formidable strength. Chris could feel the hot, foetid breath on his face.

"Your death will give me great power. I'll save *you* 'til last."

"Larabee!... Chris!"

Chris was dropped back to the ground as his assailant released him suddenly. When he looked back up, the Buffalo Man had vanished into the rocks without a trace.

***

The following night Chris increased the watch, leaving four to guard and three to sleep at any one time. Vin had insisted on keeping watch all night, convinced he was the only one of the Seven who might hear this killer sneaking up on them, but the gunslinger refused to give way. The man they followed was extremely good, leaving barely a mark to show where he passed. They *needed* Vin Tanner to track through the day; he was the only one of them with enough skill to follow such a man, but he could not do that effectively if he was tired or worn out.

"If you won't let me keep watch all night, then at least let me sit the few hours with you."

Chris stared hard into the earnest face, wondering what thoughts were behind the bright blue eyes. He had seen the shock on Vin's face when his friend reached the top of the rock early that morning to find him on the ground, bruised and winded, a small trickle of blood running down his throat from where the razor-sharp knife had pierced the skin.

Another thought shook him. Perhaps he was reading it all wrong. Perhaps Vin didn't trust him to stand watch alone, believed he had been careless. Chris turned with hardened eyes to let Vin know he was not some greenhorn, and that he would make sure the man didn't get the drop on him a second time, but his words never left his mouth as clear blue eyes met his own. He swallowed hard, strangely embarrassed to realize how much Vin valued his friendship.

"I'll be fine. He said he's going to save me 'til last. It's the rest we've gotta worry about."

Vin didn't bother to point out that the Buffalo Man had kept one of the known victims alive for many days while he tortured the man. Enough time for Chris to become the first taken - and the last to die.

"I know, but that don't change my mind none."

Chris nodded his head slowly, finally acknowledging that it was concern for his well being that drove the other man, but still he didn't relent.

"We need your eyes rested, Vin."

As he turned away, Chris felt a strong grip on his arm. He turned back, expecting to have to force the issue with the stubborn man, but instead found acquiescence.

"You take care of yourself, cowboy."

"You too, Vin."

****

The night passed slowly for Chris Larabee, his heart lurching at every new shadow. The Buffalo Man had been silent and quick, somehow managing to sneak up on him without making a sound, and that thought disturbed the gunslinger no end. Even though he knew the others were only twenty, maybe thirty feet away from him.

A slither of sand and stones brought his head round fast, his ears straining to hear more of the sound - nothing. The gunslinger pushed aside the morbid thoughts angrily. He had to keep his mind on the job at hand - or he might never see the morning.

When he was relieved an hour later by JD, Chris moved quickly to his own bedroll and slipped beneath the blanket. He thought he would still be too ill at ease to rest, but another hard day in the saddle had drained the last remaining strength from his body and he succumbed quickly to sleep, too tired even to dream.

****

"Chris!"

The shout snapped him from a deep, dreamless sleep and he threw off the blanket, heading to where he could see frenzied activity to the far left of the camp. He raced across and pushed past Buck, drawing a sharp inward breath at the sight that met his eyes.

Josiah lay spread-eagled on the ground, his pale blue eyes wide open, his face frozen in a grimace of pain and terror. His mouth had been stuffed with some of the scraggy clumps of rough grass that grew in between the rocks, effectively silencing his cries. The ground beneath Josiah was damp with the blood that flowed from the many knife cuts. Nathan and Ezra were doing their best to staunch the flow, while Vin knelt down beside the pain-stricken man and started to pull the grass from his mouth.

"Son of a bitch."

Chris held his mouth in a tight angry line as Buck let off some steam, cussing and throwing any object within reach, but he stopped when a pale-faced JD approached Chris.

"I never heard a thing. Honest, Chris. I wasn't asleep or nothing and I never heard a thing!"

The gunslinger grabbed the youth by the shoulders and shook him gently, his eyes holding the petrified ones of the other, expressing reassurance, knowing he could hardly berate JD for this when the Buffalo Man had sneaked up on him so easily the night before.

"It's alright, JD. It's alright."

He waited until JD had regained his control, watching as fear was replaced by total trust, then he turned back to help the others.

****

Between them, they managed to untie Josiah and bandage the more shallow of his wounds. Nathan gave the older man a hefty dose of laudanum while the blade of his knife heated in the fire. Some of the slashes were too deep and Josiah would most likely bleed to death before they got him halfway back to Four Corners, *unless* those wounds were cauterized.

When the job was done, the others stood around their leader in a circle, eyes full of barely controlled fear as they awaited his decision. It was times like these that Chris felt the true weight of the mantle of responsibility placed on his shoulders. Despite his calm facade he was as scared as the others, but he knew they needed him to be strong. His eyes sought out Vin's and was relieved to find concern rather than fear in their dark blue depths. He looked back to their healer.

"Nathan?"

"He's lost a lot of blood, Chris. Ought to take him back to town so I can tend those wounds properly."

Chris knew these men would stay with him if he asked but Nathan was right; Josiah needed to be returned to Four Corners - and he could not go alone. It seemed the only alternative was for Vin and he to go on while the others turned back. Justifying this to the others would be the next stage, but he had already figured it out.

"Buck, Nathan, Ezra, JD. Take Josiah back to Four Corners."

"And what do you and Mr Tanner propose to do while we traverse this... wilderness without you?"

Chris smiled, his white teeth shining in the pre-dawn light as Ezra's expansive gesture encompassed their surroundings. Despite the flowery words that seemed to imply the contrary, he knew Ezra was concerned for him and the others as much as for himself. It was rare for that poker-face to lift, but the green eyes expressed far more than the gambler would ever admit - especially to those who knew how to read them.

"We'll track him, make sure he doesn't get too far ahead of us. We sure don't want to lose him."

"No, Chris. You and Vin ain't going after that sonuvabitch alone. You need me, goddammit!"

"Josiah needs you, Buck. And Nathan. He can't help Josiah _and_ watch his own back."

"What about Ez? And JD?"

As soon as the words were out of Buck's mouth he knew he had lost. JD was a kid, barely twenty years of age. Hardly a match for a cunning, sadistic killer who could sneak up on a man without ever being heard. And Ezra? For all his airs and graces Ezra was a strong gunman, but he could not protect Josiah, Nathan... and yes, the still relatively inexperienced city boy, JD, all by himself.

"Aw shit, Chris!"

Buck kicked at a pile of stones, scattering them in all directions, and raked his hands through his hair, hating the thought of leaving his best friend out here while there was a sadistic madman on the loose, even though Vin Tanner would be right there by his side. He gave his friend a baleful glare, but it fell from his face when he saw the wry smile he gained in response. Buck reached forward and grabbed Chris's hand in both of his.

"Don't do anything stupid out there."

"Same goes, Buck. This man's cunning. Left Josiah alive on purpose, to split us up. Might easily shake us and try for you, so watch your back."

Buck nodded, accepted the leadership mantle with dignity and started giving orders. The remaining able-bodied law enforcers packed up the camp and were riding their separate ways just after sunrise.

***

"You think this will work, cowboy?"

Chris raised one eyebrow as the tracker brought his horse alongside. Vin Tanner continued to wait in silence for an answer and finally elicited a long drawn out sigh from his companion.

"I don't know, Vin. He's set his sights on me. Might not bother with the others now we've split up."

"Or he just might take advantage - of both them and us."

Chris looked up sharply. It was something he didn't want to think about. All he knew for certain was that the others would *definitely* be in danger if they stayed with him.

"I'm sorry, Chris. I know you did the best thing. You've given them a chance to get away with their lives."

Vin halted his horse and leaned down to examine a small, spiny shrub.

"He went by this way maybe two hours ago."

Chris pulled back his hat and wiped his forehead with his black bandanna, pushing away an errant lock of sweat-soaked hair from where it had become plastered to his forehead. The sun was high overhead in a cloudless, azure blue sky. He was still for a moment, caught by the blueness of the sky and his own thoughts. He could not help a wry grin as he decided how wonderful this day felt despite everything. If there had been no Buffalo Man out there then this day would have been near perfect.

Pushing these fancy thoughts aside, Chris opened the canteen and took a long draw of warm water, tipping his head back to avoid any spillage of the precious liquid.

Vin looked back when he felt his arm being nudged, and he took the proffered canteen with a nod of thanks, taking a hasty swallow of warm water and then handed the canteen back to the other man without even a second glance, wiping away the excess with the back of his hand.

The returned canteen was re-tied to the pommel of Chris's saddle before he urged his horse forward once more with a quick pressure of his legs against the horse's side.

***

They had made no ground before nightfall and, eventually, they decided to make camp. It always amazed Chris at how quickly the temperature dropped soon after the sun had set. The pleasant, cool breeze that had started as the sun dipped towards the horizon gradually let up until the soaring heat of the daylight had given way to the chill of the night air. The small fire did nothing to reassure them of their safety, but the hot coffee seeped warmth into their chilled bones. Fatigue, brought on by another long, hard day in the saddle brought a sigh of dismay from Chris Larabee but neither man felt willing to allow sleep to overtake them this night; their quarry was too close, and too deadly for comfort.

A companionable silence descended, only the familiar noises of the night and the crackling of the fire disturbing the peace. An owl hooted nearby and, not long after, its wings were heard momentarily, beating upon the dead air as the predator swooped down towards an unsuspecting prey.

Finally, Chris tossed aside the dregs of coffee and stood, giving Vin a resigned look. Despite the temptation to stay awake all night both men knew they had to grab some sleep or else their senses and reactions would be too dull. Earlier, they had decided upon two hour watches to ensure each stayed alert.

"I'll take first watch."

****

At the end of his second watch, Chris shook the sleeping man, waiting for his grunt of acknowledgment before making himself as comfortable as he could within the thin bedroll, force of habit keeping him well back from the light of the small fire.

His dreams were sweet; a kaleidoscope of images of Sarah from the moment they had first set eyes upon each other but then they turned nasty for just a moment before, eventually, this unwelcome dream gave way to a deep restful sleep, the first he had experienced in a long time.

The smell of cooking meat pulled him from a deep sleep. He opened his eyes into narrow slits and studied the area in front of him, suddenly aware that he had slept for more than two hours for the sky was beginning to pale with the first streaks of dawn. His eyes snapped open in horror and he leaped to his feet.

Fifteen feet away, Vin sat with his back against a small rock, a rope tying him tightly to its rough surface. His bare legs were outstretched in front of him across the smoldering embers of a spent fire, his ankles loosely staked to the ground to prevent him from pulling his legs far enough away from the heat.

A feeble whimper, barely audible from the gagged man, jolted Chris out of his shock and he swept the hot ash from under the other's legs with his own bare hands. Gently, he took out the moss that had been thrust into Vin's mouth and untied the man.

Racing back to the other side of the small camp, he grabbed both water canteens and the spare shirt from his saddle bag. It was the cleanest material he could find and he tore it into strips, moistening one and placing it against the dry mouth for Vin to suck on, knowing the injured man needed water to counteract the shock but realizing he would choke if he tried to take it any other way.

Chris soaked the remaining two strips and wrapped them around the burnt legs, trying to draw away the heat retained deep in the leg tissues. For the next twenty minutes, he kept the bandages wet, talking softly in reassurance as the pain slowly eased. He wrapped blankets around his companion to keep him warm, yet knowing it would be impossible to stave off shock.

The next problem was whether or not he should move Vin. There was no telling when the Buffalo Man would return, if he was not already sitting out there watching. Vin gazed up at him through unfocused, pain-filled eyes.

"You know he's out there. Waiting and watching."

"Let him come..."

"He's a mean sonuvabitch. Knows the Indian ways..."

"Where's this leading, Vin?"

"He left me alive, knowing you won't leave me, knowing I'd slow you down. The Buffalo Man'll come back for both of us today... or tonight. If you go now, then he'll find only my knife. You got to leave me, Chris."

Chris tightened his lips in anger.

"The Buffalo Man was right, 'cause I'm not going to leave you." Chris gave Vin a determined look, one that brooked no argument. "Got a couple of bottles of whiskey in my saddlebag. Do you reckon you could ride with a little medicinal help?"

And he grinned, but the smile did not extinguish the concern in his eyes as he tried to figure out how he could have slept like a baby while his friend was being tied and tortured.

****

The small town of Spencer's Bend was the closest settlement to them, barely more than half a day's ride away, but Chris had to keep the horses moving at a slow walk to avoid causing his companion any more pain than was necessary. If they were lucky, then they might reach it by the early hours of the next morning. However, it was not the speed of their traveling that caused the most worry, it was knowing the Buffalo Man would be lying in wait for them somewhere between here and the town.

When he had returned to pack up his bedroll he had found some unfamiliar stains and a few crushed leaves. He rubbed the leaves between his fingers and sniffed, reeling backwards as his head began to spin.

"Son of a bitch."

His eyes widened in horror as he realised the Buffalo Man must have snuck up and drugged him, sending him deeper into sleep. It would explain the nightmare that had crept in, and died just as quickly. The man was toying with them like a cat with a mouse.

The heat from the sun directly overhead was starting to take its toll on the two men and, more than once, Chris had to bring the horses to a halt when it looked as though Vin might tumble from his mount.

"How are you bearing up, Vin?"

"Just fine."

Vin hissed as the tender, cloth-wrapped flesh of his burned legs brushed against the horse's flank. The burns were nowhere near as severe as they could have been, as if the Buffalo Man had wanted to cause him discomfort rather than permanent injury. If *that* had been the intention then Vin was in no doubt that the rope tying his ankles would have been far shorter, leaving his calves lying in the embers rather than hovering above them.

There had to be a good reason for this. The madman must have wanted him incapacitated but, obviously, not incapable of giving him a good fight when the time came. Or was he hoping that Vin would be injured sufficiently to be unable to protect his trail companion.

Vin frowned. The Buffalo Man had promised he would save Chris until last, obviously wanting to fully savor the torture he would inflict upon him. But why? What had Chris done to incur this dubious honor?

Vin screwed his eyes shut as he pondered over this. He had wondered as much earlier, after Josiah had become a victim and now, Vin *knew* it was no macabre thought that had crept into his head, and he also knew it was no idle decision made by a madman. Those victims back near Four Corners had died hard, after many pain-filled days and nights. Their deaths had been meticulously carried out to give the maximum amount of pain that their bodies could withstand without killing them outright or allowing them the blessed relief of unconsciousness. But it still didn't answer his question of why it was so important that Chris be the one to suffer longest and die last. It made no sense. Did the madman hope to make Chris suffer even more by watching *him* being killed first?

Vin shook his head, knowing there was a piece of this puzzle missing. He tried to push away the pain so he could concentrate on what he had seen, using his innate knowledge to try and figure out the motives of this animal masquerading as a man. First, the man had already tried to take Chris, but failed. Why? Was Chris just the easy target that time, or was there another reason for his choice of victim? And if the Buffalo Man had decided to pick them off one at a time then why was Josiah left alive? There could be only one reason for that - to split up the group. Logic told Vin that he and Chris would be the ones to stay on the trail while the others turned back because *he* was the tracker, and Chris was the acknowledged leader of the Seven.

Vin sighed. It seemed obvious to him that the Buffalo Man had wanted them separated from the group - that he was, most likely, not interested in the others at all. He frowned. It still came back to the same question of *why*; why would he want to take Chris first yet kill him last? What could he gain from that? Chris would be too wracked with his own pain to notice others being tortured around him.

_He wants me to watch._

Terror gripped at Vin's heart at that thought. He reeled in his saddle in shock as he imagined lying there, unable to do anything as his friend was tortured and then skinned like a rabbit in front of his very eyes.

Vin took off his hat and wiped his sweating face with the sleeve of his buckskin coat trying to force some other excuse for the cold sweat that broke out across his whole body.

_Damn white blood._

Sweating was one of the few physical traits of his white heritage that he truly detested. The Indians he had lived amongst could, no doubt, see the rest; the paler colour of his skin, the blue of his eyes, the lighter brown of his curly locks... but his instincts could not be faulted; they were the pure, natural ones of a warrior.

He pursed his lips as he succeeded in turning off the images of Chris being tortured, concentrating instead of what had to be done if they were to survive. Vin knew Chris would have to use all his skill and judgment if he was to defeat the Buffalo Man, but the gunslinger had not been taught the silent ways of the warrior. He could not move as stealthily as the bastard that had turned the tables on them - and had become the Hunter. For whatever insane reason, the Buffalo Man had singled Chris out to be the last to die, and Vin *knew* he would be forced to live long enough to witness the mutilation of his friend's body.

_I'll kill you first myself, Chris, afore I'd let him hurt you._

The tracker made this silent promise, knowing he would use his last living breath if need be, to save the man he had come to value above all others from such a painful death.

****

Chris turned in his saddle when he heard a soul-deep moan come from his companion; his concerned expression taking note of the sheen of sweat across the injured man's face. He leaned over and felt Vin's forehead; it was hot with fever.

"There should be a stream over that rise. We'll stop there awhile. Cool you down some."

He waited for Vin to nod his head in agreement before urging his horse onwards once more, tugging the other horse along behind him.

****

The water looked warm and inviting; a welcoming sight after miles of dust and thorny vegetation. Carefully, Chris pulled Vin from his horse and eased him to the ground and into the limited shade of a scrubby tree. Leaving them saddled, he led the horses to the river's edge and tied them securely, allowing them enough freedom to drink and to pull at the razor-sharp grasses that grew by the bank. Having seen to the horses' immediate needs, he returned to Vin's side and began to unravel the bandage from one leg. Despite attempts to keep the wound clean, infection had started to set in but there was little he could do. He wasn't a doctor, or even a healer like Nathan, and he had little knowledge of native remedies.

Vin looked up into the concerned face, watching as Chris winced in sympathy to the pain he reckoned the tracker was feeling. He turned away to gaze towards the stream that flowed sluggishly by. His adopted Comanche father had passed on much of his people's medicinal knowledge, telling him where to find natural sources of pain relievers and how to make poultices to seal wounds.

"Go to the water's edge..."

Chris frowned at first, but then followed the tracker's instructions carefully and prepared two poultices from the mud and harsh grasses that grew nearby. He wrapped a poultice firmly around each of Vin's leg burns, unsure if it was a hiss of pain or relief coming from between the tightly clenched teeth as the cool pasty mixture touched the burnt flesh.

Without being asked, he returned to the bank and dragged Vin's pink bandanna through the warm water, squeezed out a little of the excess water and brought it back to Vin, wiping it across the heated forehead. Having no intention of staying there long, he reached into his saddlebag for some hard tack and jerky then he sat down and handed over a share of the bland but much needed food. While they ate the hard trail rations, Chris listened as Vin tried to tell him about the different plants around them, his admiration for the tracker rising yet another notch as he realised how knowledgeable the other man was. Vin might not have been given any formal schooling, learning to read and write, but he was educated to a far higher degree in other ways.

Although he tried to take it all in, Chris knew that he would have forgotten most before they even reached the town.

"Then you place the leaves in a bible and dance naked round a..."

"Huh?"

"You ain't been listening to a word, Larabee."

Although dulled by the natural pain relief and fatigue, Vin's eyes still managed to sparkle as Vin teased him.

"Have so."

The deliberate crunch of a foot upon a rock ended the lighthearted debate, drawing their attention to the tall, buckskin-clad man who stood barely ten feet away. Chris made a move for his gun, but his hand dropped away as a bullet thudded into the ground near his outstretched legs. He pulled his arm up slowly, palm facing outwards, his eyes never moving from the dark stare of the coarse looking figure.

"That's right. You just hold it right there, cowboy."

Chris's lips tightened and his eyes darkened in cold anger. There was only one person who could call him 'cowboy' and get away with it, and that man was seated beside him. From anyone else it was the highest kind of insult as, to Chris, a cowboy was one of those feckless men that drove cattle along the dusty trails, their intellects no greater than the mindless steers they led to the slaughter. He remembered his father would curse when 'they' came into town, getting all liquored up, shooting the clouds and damaging property. No woman was safe while they were around and he, his mother and his brothers would be forced to stay away from the town until they had moved on. His lips curled into a snarl. He had been many things in his life; a rancher, a lawman, a shootist and now a law enforcer... but he had never been a cowboy - and he never would be.

"Now ease that six-shooter out, slowly, and toss it over yonder. Yours too, Tracker."

The Buffalo Man grinned, displaying yellow rotting teeth, as he watched both men follow his instructions. The gunslinger grimaced, unable to do any different while the madman's gun was pointing squarely at Vin, but he kept his eyes trained on the other man, taking in all the small details, hoping for an opportunity to present itself.

The Buffalo Man's leathery skin spoke of a lifetime laid bare to the elements; the hot sun during the day and the bitter cold of the night. Chris's eyes narrowed as the man pulled out a hunting knife from the sheath bound to his waist, its steel surface flashing as it reflected the overhead sun. The knife blade was tilted until its brilliant glare rested on Chris's face, forcing him to squint against the brightness.

Dropping his own gun to the ground, the Buffalo Man reached into the pouch strung across his chest and removed a dull, matted clump of hair. Chris's eyes widened as he realised what was held in the dirt-covered hand and, for one horrified moment, he thought the Buffalo Man had followed the others and had killed them as promised, but as the blaze of the knife was removed from his eyes he noticed how light in colour the matted hair appeared at the ends. Not dark enough for JD or Nathan, too long for Ezra or Buck... and it lacked the gray flecks that would make it Josiah's scalp. He sighed, quietly, almost in relief when he realised his fears for the others were groundless.

"You don't recognize this, do you, Bounty Hunter?"

Vin frowned, wondering how the other knew of him when he had never seen this man before - or had he? There was something tingling at the back of his mind... a long buried memory trying to resurface. He turned his attention back to the blood-matted scalp in the hope that it might give him some clue, but he could think of no one with hair that colour - although he knew it was from a white man rather than an Indian. Only the whites had hair that shade.

The scalp was tossed onto the ground at their feet and he felt Chris turn to him as a sharply indrawn breath escaped from his lips. The obvious was staring Vin in the face but he refused to believe it, and stated that belief firmly.

"No."

The Buffalo Man laughed maniacally, the knife quivering with the shaking body, but he froze into perfect stillness as Chris made a slight movement towards him. The grin stretched wider as the Buffalo Man began to circle his first intended victim, Vin Tanner.

"I shall kill you slowly, piece by piece, with a thousand cuts, and then I shall hang your scalp with your father's."

Chris faltered slightly, knowing from Vin's reaction that it was the truth but refusing to allow the revelation to affect him.

"Don't you worry none, cowboy, I ain't forgetting you. That purty yellow hair'll look good on my belt."

In one swift movement, Chris gained his feet and moved to stand between the madman and his almost helpless friend, remaining poised, watching the knife that was held in a strong, practiced grip. The Buffalo Man grinned, seemingly unconcerned at the sudden change of prey. With a motion faster than Chris had anticipated for a man that size, he feinted to the right and then jabbed to the left. Chris hissed as the knife slid along the side of his ribcage drawing blood.

"One."

From the corner of his eye, Chris noticed his injured friend tense but knew Vin was too weak to be of any help in this fight. Somehow he had to get it onto a more even footing, take it somewhere he could turn that larger but deadly swift frame to disadvantage.

"Let you watch his blood flowing... hear his purty screams afore I kill you. Let ya go knowing I ain't finished with him..."

The man started to taunt them, though Chris had already guessed that those barbed digs were aimed at Vin rather than himself. Another lunge and Chris cried out sharply as the razor edge sliced across his left thigh. He hobbled momentarily from the intense pain radiating up and down his leg, feeling the warm blood running freely.

"Then I'll play all slow... take my time about it... watch those big, green eyes fill with pain and fear... tell him why..."

From the corner of his eye Chris could see Vin sliding towards his gun but the Buffalo Man reached him first, kicking Vin hard in the face but swinging back too quickly for Chris to take advantage of the momentary diversion. His own face grew cold as he tried to ignore the blood streaming down the face of the dazed tracker.

"Tell him how your Pa ruined a man... hurt him so bad... 'cos of you and your pa... have him screaming your name with hate afore he dies..."

Chris tried not to be distracted by the confusing ravings of the man but they washed over him, leaving him puzzled. All he could figure was that it had something to do with Vin's father - and possibly Vin as well - but there was one thing of which Chris was certain, the man had singled him out for a reason, as way of inflicting more than just physical pain on Vin Tanner.

The thought of Vin being forced to watch him being tortured like the two victims they had found near Four Corners brought his mind sharply back into focus. He *had* to beat this man, not just for his own sake but for Vin's as well.

They circled around once more, keeping a healthy distance between them, arms held loose and wide. The sun glinted off the polished surface of the wickedly sharp blade that the man tossed from one hand to the other, but Chris kept his eyes locked with his opponent, trying to read the intended moves in the cruel, black depths. A flicker of the eyes heralded another feint, but this time Chris was prepared. He sidestepped and the knife went past his left side without drawing blood. With one smooth motion, Chris trapped the knife hand with his left arm and slammed his right forearm into the Buffalo Man's face but the quick-footed madman recovered in time to deflect the blow. Slipping his leg between Chris's, he pulled the gunslinger off balance and they fell to the ground with a heavy thud, rolling over and over, down the slight incline and into the stream.

Coming back to his senses, Vin edged forward and grabbed Chris's six-shooter from where it lay on the ground only a few feet from his out-flung arm and, slowly, painfully, dragged himself towards the water's edge, his intention clear. If he could not get a clean shot at the Buffalo Man, if it looked as though all was lost, then he'd somehow make sure that one of these bullets found Chris before he turned the gun on himself.

An arm shot out of the water with the knife, prepared to arc downwards, but was met part-way by another black-clad arm that grasped the bony wrist. The water churned with the violent twisting of two bodies locked in mortal combat.

Suddenly all went still and, as the water settled, a cloud of red rose to the surface, before streaming off like a ribbon in the slow current. The two antagonists glared into each other's eyes, green on black, breath hard against each other's faces. The Buffalo Man grinned triumphantly... then his face seemed to crumple in confusion.

"Great power..." His eyes glazed over in death and the large man fell backwards, sending a plume of water high into the air.

Chris stumbled from the water with the knife still clasped in his hand and watched as the body floated back to the surface, face down. He sank to his knees, staring at the lifeless form until the object by the water's edge caught his eye. Chris reached forward and tentatively allowed his fingers to touch the matted scalp that had been kicked and trodden upon during the fight. A movement behind him made him jump, but he relaxed as Vin crawled over to sit beside him.

"When he never came back my Ma figured something bad had happened." Vin snorted softly. "I can just about remember my Ma saying he'd been scouting for the army, and I can remember there were some killings of ordinary folk around that time. I was only young, but I heard people whispering in fear." Vin looked up into green eyes filled with compassion. "My Pa went missing yet no-one held him to blame for them murders. Never found no body either." Vin's hand reached out to touch the long hair, so like his own. "You know, she never believed he'd deserted us, though I kind of had my doubts all these years... 'til now."

"You reckon your Pa figured out who the killer was? Got himself murdered?"

Vin glanced back at the large frame floating face down in the water that had fetched up against some overhanging shrubs.

"Yeah... I reckon he did."

Chris reached over and placed a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder, feeling the tension drain out of the man.

"Your bleeding, cowboy"

"So are you."

Vin rubbed the back of his hand under his bloodied nose.

"Least it ain't broke.. hate to lose my purty looks."

The gunslinger snorted then hissed in pain. The razor-sharp cuts on his side and thigh were not deep, but they stung fiercely. Chris smiled as Vin instructed him on how to seal the wounds using the same mud and grasses as before, and was surprised at how quickly the pain diminished. Far better than a heated knife to cauterize the wounds.

After he finished packing the last of the mixture against the cuts, using his long-johns torn into strips to hold it all in place, Chris clapped Vin on the shoulder.

"Let's get this piece of shit to Spencer's Bend."

****

It was late morning by the time they finally arrived at the small town at the bend in the stream, an exhausted Chris on Vin's horse with the tracker seated behind him. He could feel Vin slumped against his back, his head resting on Chris's shoulder, arms wrapped about his waist to stop himself from falling off.

The reins of the Chris's horse was tethered to the pommel on Vin's mount. A large body had been slung over the saddle of the dark mare, belly down, and tied securely. Possessing no dignity in life, the Buffalo Man gained none in death; his head, with its lank and dirty blond waves, bounced with each and every step.

Chris brought the small train to a halt outside the sheriff's office, ignoring the crowd that had followed him through the main street of the small town. He dropped from the saddle and slipped a knife - the Buffalo Man's own knife - from its sheath in his saddlebag and sliced through the rope, uncaring as the body dropped to the dusty ground in an ignominious heap.

"Chris Larabee, law enforcer over at Four Corners. This man killed a number of people. Tracked him... had to kill him."

The sheriff nodded, face deadly serious, and then, with a sharp flick of his head gave a non-verbal command to his deputy to remove the body.

"Heard your name mentioned afore. Still need you to stay in town 'til I can check your story."

Chris nodded tiredly. Nothing he hadn't expected.

"We'll see to our horses, then see if there's a room at the hotel."

The sheriff gave another nod of acceptance and waited until the two weary strangers were halfway towards the Livery before turning away to make his inquiries.

****

After ensuring the horses were being tended to, Chris assisted Vin over to the hotel. He waited until the man had settled and then sat down beside him.

"How are you doing?"

"Just fine."

"I'll check if this town has a doctor..."

"Don't need no doctor. I'm fine."

Chris glanced at him in askance, green eyes narrowed questioningly, but then he gave a small sigh of acceptance. Perhaps he'd be able to convince Vin to let Nathan take a look at his burns once they returned to Four Corners. He changed the subject before Vin mentioned the injuries Chris had sustained during his fight with the Buffalo Man.

"Need to wire the others. Make sure there's no trouble brewing in our absence."

Vin lowered his head and smiled as Chris pushed himself up and walked towards the door. His voice, although soft and low, still stopped the gunslinger in his tracks.

 

"I'm sure they're fine too, Chris."

****

Ezra sighed in exasperation as he shuffled the cards single-handedly over... and over.

Ahead of him Buck Wilmington was pacing back and forth, stopping only so often to stare up the length of the main street as if, by doing so, he could magic up the appearance of the two missing members of the Seven.

Behind Ezra, JD Dunne was playing with his small knife, the constant thud as it hit the boardwalk as annoying as Buck's pacing.

If something didn't happen soon, then he was going to go stark staring mad.

When Buck stopped for the umpteenth time Ezra, finally, gave up any pretense of calm detachment and opened his mouth to utter a suitable put-down that would probably elicit more confusion than anger from the less-articulate womanizer. The sound of running feet caught his attention and he turned to see Mrs Wainwright's boy racing towards them, a piece of paper gripped tightly in his hand.

"Telegraph for Mr Dunne..."

JD pulled himself up, his chest expanding in pride. He held out a hand and started to read.

"It's from Chris... Hey!"

Buck snatched the paper from JD and started to scan the words, but was soon shouting his own annoyance as Ezra snagged it from him.

"What's it say?"

Both men crowded in on Ezra, trying to peer at the words over his shoulder.

"Fortuitous news. Our mentally unstable quarry has been sent to a place of fire and brimstone... however, Mr Tanner has sustained injuries and will require convalescence before they commence on a homeward journey. Mr Larabee expects to return to the bosom of Four Corners within four days. Mr Larabee is inquiring after the health and well being of our resident preacher, Mr Sanchez..."

"Does he mention me?" JD tried to snatch back the telegraph paper. Ezra made as if he was scanning the few words intently.

"No."

He frowned when Buck finally succeeded in grabbing back the paper.

"Buffalo Man dead. Vin hurt. Return in 4 days. Josiah? Chris." Buck pushed back his hat and gave Ezra a cock-eyed look. "How you manage to make so many words out of so few I'll never know, Ezra."

"A most fortunate ability that was schooled into me..."

"I'm going to wire Chris."

Ezra stared at the back of the tall man as he strode off down the main street with JD dogging his steps and sighed deeply, then, as there was nothing better to do, he followed on behind.

****

As Chris walked back to the hotel, the reply from Buck in his hand, he heard his name called. He stopped and turned slowly, expecting trouble, wondering if someone was calling him out, but the man hurrying towards him was the town's sheriff.

"Larabee!"

Sheriff Grant came to a halt and handed over a bounty notice. For a moment, Chris was almost afraid to look, concerned that the face staring out would be Vin's. Eventually, he looked down and read the wanted poster, noticing that it was quite old and yet the crudely drawn face looking out was still easily recognizable as the man he had killed.

 _Mighty John Oak. Wanted for murder. $1000 reward. Dead or Alive_.

He looked back up as the sheriff carried on with barely restrained enthusiasm, walking alongside as Chris continued on his way back to the hotel.

"Heard about this man. He was a buffalo hunter for the army but it seems buffalo weren't the only creatures he liked to skin. Many a bounty hunter's gone looking for him these twenty-five years, most never been seen again. Most folks thought Oak had perished out there in the wilderness but then you'd hear tales of skinned people being found from time to time. Heard about those poor folk near Four Corners, and before that there was a body found near Tascosa." The sheriff grinned. "Seems like you earned yourself a thousand dollar reward."

Chris came to a halt, turning to the sheriff, eyes burning with the need to ask one question.

"You ever heard mention the name Tanner?"

Chris knew he was taking a bit of a gamble mentioning Vin's surname but he wanted to see if the sheriff knew of any connection between John Oak and Vin's father, especially as Oak may have been near Tascosa in recent years.

"Seem to recall he was the fella that first brought Oak in, twenty-five years back. They say he swore his revenge on Tanner and all his kin. Oak was all set to hang but then he escaped." The sheriff gave Chris a sideways glance, eyes narrowing greedily. "There's plenty a man could do with a thousand dollars. Don't carry that much in my bounty box, so where do you want them to send the money?"

"Send it to Four Corners."

"Sure thing, Larabee."

The sheriff turned back towards his office leaving Chris alone with his thoughts. He shook his head as he realised Oak must have been trailing Vin for years, and it was only Vin's itinerant lifestyle, first as a buffalo hunter then as a bounty hunter, that had kept Oak one step behind. He also realised that being framed for murder may have saved Vin's life. It had sent Vin into hiding, successfully covering his tracks enough to knock Oak off the trail for more than a year.

He turned back to the hotel, still clutching the piece of paper that told him all five of his friends, including Josiah Sanchez, were fine. As he entered the hotel lobby, his thoughts returned to that terrifying moment when the Buffalo Man pulled out a blood-matted scalp and he had believed, if only for a second, that it had been taken from one of the other five. In that moment he had come to realize how much he valued each and every one of them; how much he cared. Somehow along the line, this mismatched group had become more than just associates, and more than just friends; they had become family.

Although, by all accounts, the money was his alone, by the time he entered the hotel room he had already decided that seven went into a thousand just fine.

THE END


End file.
